


grass

by Auntaggie



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Genocide mentioned, POV The Master (Doctor Who), POV should be a content warning in itself, Post-Episode: s12e10 The Timeless Children, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:42:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22992637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auntaggie/pseuds/Auntaggie
Summary: The Doctor was gone, and there was no need to stay for the fireworks. No one but the Doctor gets to kill him. No one. Why can’t she just realise that and help him.Set at the end of the Timeless Children
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	grass

“Kill him,” he screamed, already turning away and engaging his vortex manipulator. 

The Doctor was gone, and there was no need to stay for the fireworks. No one but the Doctor gets to kill him. No one. Why can’t she just realise that and help him. 

It’s not that he planned to survive. He just had a back up plan, in case she wouldn’t do it. He was so sure. This time! This time he could push her over the edge, but those stupid humans and their fucking stupid principles. Honor. Sacrifice. Blah, blah, blah. What about his fucking sacrifice?

He screamed as he materialised in the TARDIS. Not his TARDIS. She’d taken that from him too. Spitting with that rage she always disapproved of, he almost collapsed against the console. 

“Come on, come on,” he muttered to himself, as he scanned the planet below him for signs of organic life. Maybe, just maybe, his CyberMasters had proven themselves useful. They couldn’t force the Doctor’s hand, but surely, they could kill one old human. 

“FUCK!” 

Everything. Everything was gone. His CyberMaster army. The charred remains of the Timelords. The orchard where they’d lain in the tall grass on long summer evenings. Gone. And he was still here. 

His fist slammed into the console screen displaying the now dead planet, until the screen cracked and was red with his blood. _Her blood too_ , the less than helpful voice in his head pointed out. 

The Master slumped on the floor, turning his back to the console unit that hums unhappily at his mistreatment, and contemplates his failure.

He felt her looking for him, tendrils of her consciousness seeking out his mind. He locked his presence behind diamond strong mental walls, like in the old days. Let her wonder. Let her think him dead. He hoped she was curled up and weeping at the thought of him dead. That’s a nice image. She’d never see him coming. 

Oh, but how to make her see. She was so like him. Two renegades, who were never going to be confined by Gallifrey’s laws, destined to run riot over an undeserving universe. They each brought death and destruction in their wake, but his wasn’t acceptable to her. He went too far. 

The thought brought a bitter laugh to his lips. She’d gone just as far, taken as many lives. The Timelords could have been resurrected if she’d just – taken his hand. He had everything they needed. The bodies were little more than barbeque, but they could be cloned and most of their consciousness could be downloaded from the matrix. 

Not the kiddies though. They had nothing of worth to add to the knowledge of the Timelords. And wasn’t that just typical of an entire race built on the biological material of a child. 

The Doctor could have just taken his hand, forgiven his sins and maybe, if she was very good, he would have brought them back for her. Well some of them. The ones he could bear at least. The quiet ones who did as their Master ordered. But no, the Doctor wouldn’t sully herself with the hands of a genocidal murderer. 

She who had killed more than him, who was an expert at mass murder. The Doctor had been charged with genocide before, exterminated the Racnoss and the Daleks, and she still thought she was better than him. _That’s what they thought too_ , the bitter voice reminds him. 

Yeah, well look at them now.

Dead. He had avenged her and proven himself more than her. The Doctor could never do the things he had done. But she had still looked at him like he was the criminal, when it was the Timelords – 

Wait. 

There was an idea, worming its way around his mind. _Criminal. That’s what she was._

Him too, according to certain people and certain galactic bodies. He never liked such a small word for what he did but he had never run from what he was capable of either. The Doctor had never stopped running. Never stayed in one place long enough to face the consequences of her actions. 

That was her problem. That’s why she couldn’t see. 

He jumped back to feet, immediately reaching for the TARDIS phone and receiving a sharp electrical shock as he tried to pick up the handset. Oh, this one was feisty. Might even be an upgrade on his previous TARDIS. He giggled as he reached for the handset again, and this time he’s allowed to take it from its cradle. 

His laughter grows as he types and he has to clear his throat, compose himself before the call connects. 

“Shadow Proclamation,” a monotone voice proclaims. 

“I’d like to report a criminal. A very dangerous criminal that needs to be brought to justice.”

“Name of fugitive.”

“The Doctor. She’s a Timelord and, she used to be a man. If that helps you search your data banks.”

“No record.” 

“Check. Again.” He’s practically growling and takes a deep breath before he continues. “A Timelord known as the Doctor. She has massacred the Daleks, the Cybermen, the Racnoss. Look under genocidal maniac with a saviour complex, and an Earth sized blind spot. Travels through time and space in a ridiculous blue box. Go all the way back through all of your records. She’s been doing this for a very long time.” 

He stretches his neck as the silence drags on. Surely they have something on her. One of her crimes has to be in the Proclamation’s records. Just one. That’s all he needs. Just one little incident of mass murder. Pretty please, with the blood of the innocent on top. 

“Match found in Shadow Proclamation cold case files. Fugitive. Doctor, The. Home Planet. Gallifrey. Can you confirm?”

The Master shrugged. “You’re half right. That’s her. Transferring most recent coordinates for her TARDIS, and directions on how to bypass the locks.” His fingers flew over the keys and he was starting to feel like himself again. “That’s if she even remembers to lock the damn thing,” he muttered happily to himself.

“Your name?” the voice asked. 

Oh, you’ll know soon enough. The Master was already bouncing on the balls of his feet as he considered how to bring himself to the Shadow Proclamation’s attention, again. Or was there another way he could worm himself into the Doctor’s personal prison?

So many options. 

He barely contained his snigger. “Just a concerned sentient being. I’m also passing along information on the special requirements you’ll need to contain this criminal. According to the Mrs., she’s a devil at getting into the Storm Cage, so your maximum Maximum Security facility would be appreciated.”

Can’t have the Doctor running away before we’ve had our fun.

“The Shadow Proclamation thanks you for your information and will act swiftly to bring this fugitive to justice.”

“No, thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Haven't shipped Thoschei since the TenSimm days, but here goes. This fic now has a bit of a sequel ; [Trust Issues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23830171)


End file.
